Amnesia
by 1TheDarkEyedOne1
Summary: A great FanFiction written long, long, ago by Kim Colley for "The Net" yahoo group. This is her great story, I take no credit for it!
1. Chapter 1

"My wife," he asked breathlessly. "I need to see my wife. Where is she?"

"Calm down, sir," the desk nurse responded. "What is your wife's name?"

He ran his hands through his hair and exhaled loudly. "Angela Trelawney. The

news report said she was here. I need to see her. Is she all right?"

She looked at him cautiously, then glanced down at the phone. "Hold on, sir.  
You'll need to speak to the officer in charge." She pressed a button and spoke  
quietly into the receiver, keeping her eyes on the 40-ish man dressed head to

toe in J. Crew. He paced nervously until a large-bellied plainclothesman with a  
cheap tie and a service pin approached. The detective held out his hand.

"I'm Lieutenant Wise. Can I help you, sir?"

Trelawney took his hand and pumped it earnestly, sincere worry oozing from every  
pore.

"Yes, please, Lieutenant. My name is Sean Trelawney, my wife Angela is here."

Wise motioned to the nurses' break room to the left of the charge desk. "Why  
don't we step in here, sir?"

Trelawney followed him into the brightly lit room and sat opposite the aging

officer at a round, Formica-topped table. Faxed slogans like "It's hard to fly

with the eagles when you're surrounded by turkeys" were taped to the walls, in

between OSHA and EEOC posters. The fluorescents gleamed off the bright pink  
scalp of the cop, whose thinning white hair stuck straight up in a military

burr.

"Now," said Wise, "what makes you think your wife is here?"

"They showed her picture on TV, they said she was injured. I drove straight

down from Seattle as soon as I heard."

"What was your wife doing down here all by herself, Mr. Trelawney?"

"Hiking. She's a programmer, and she likes to get away by herself a couple  
times a month."

"Where does she work?"

"Copper Canyon Technologies. It's an IT - information technologies company.  
Look, can I see my wife, please?"

Wise settled his rump back in the plastic seat, which creaked in protest. "Well

sir," he said, "you have to understand my position. I can't just hand her over

to any ya-hoo who walks in off the street. Do you have some proof of who you

are, and your wife's identity as well?"

Trelawney looked confused for a moment, then began patting his jacket and pants.  
"Well, I don't have Angela's ID, she had that with her." He pulled out his

wallet and flipped through it. "But here's my driver's license, and my work

security pass. Oh, wait - - here's our wedding picture."

He pulled out the two-by-four color glossy and handed it to Wise. A smiling

Angela in white dress and veil stood close in a three-quarter shot to a tuxedoed  
Trelawney. 'Kelly is going to get a bonus for this one,' he thought with an  
inward smirk.

Wise studied the photo briefly, then looked up with a smile. "You can't much

beat that, can you? If you don't mind, though, I'd like to call your company,  
just to provide a little extra verification."

Trelawney pulled out a business card. "The number's at the bottom. Ask for Don  
Smith. He supervises both of us."

"Husband and wife team, huh?"

Trelawney smiled, concern for his injured wife tightening the corners of his  
mouth.  
In five minutes, Wise returned to take him to Angela. She looked better than he  
thought she would. The doctor explained that she'd suffered a concussion in the

fall, which had resulted in partial amnesia. Her memory would most likely  
return in a few weeks, although she might never recall the accident itself.

Trelawney cautiously approached her bedside, and was relieved to see a complete

lack of recognition in her eyes. He bent down over her and gently brushed her  
bangs away from her face.

"Angela, honey," he whispered, "I've come to take you home."

She blinked, her eyes traveling from him, to Wise, to the doctor, and back  
again. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sean, honey. I'm your husband. Don't worry, the doctor says you'll  
remember everything in a day or two. We can go home now."

"I want her to follow up with a neurologist. I'll give you a couple of names on

the way out," the doctor said, then left the happy couple, plus Wise, to  
themselves.

Angela looked to the portly detective for assistance.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Trelawney. I checked everything out. You'll be okay. I'm  
sure your husband will take good care of you."

Trelawney turned and shook the detective's hand. "Thank you for all your help,  
Lieutenant."

As he left, Angela shifted in her bed, moving slightly away from her husband.

"I don't understand," she said. "If we're married, where's my wedding ring?"

He smiled. "Right where you left it, on the kitchen counter." He sat down on

the edge of the bed and she scooted even further away. He covered her hand with

his, his eyes warm with understanding.

"Don't worry, Angela. I know you don't remember me, but the memories will come  
back. Until then, I'm not going to pressure you. I -" he looked down at the  
hand cradled in his own. "I love you, Angela."

She remained silent, unsure what to say. He stood up and picked up an overnight

bag.

"I brought some of your things from home." He looked around awkwardly. "I'll  
just wait outside until you get dressed."

Standing outside the hospital door, he had to congratulate himself on his

performance. He'd hit every nuance of the loving, concerned husband just right.


	2. Chapter 2

They stopped for dinner at a cliffside restaurant that overlooked the sea.  
Candles flickered at each table, their glow supplemented by muted track lighting  
around the walls. The Wynton Marsalis Quintet played on the sound system, muting

the sound of the surf far below. The hostess seated them, and Trelawney studied  
Angela's face as she gazed at the stormy ocean.

He wanted her. He wouldn't lie to himself about that. If he'd ever had the  
chance before, he would've taken her. But this would be much more satisfying.  
She wouldn't fight, true, but she wouldn't run away either.

She looked back at him, her brown eyes wary and confused. He was so caught up

in his fantasies that he forgot his lines. All he could do was smile at her.  
That seemed to be all she need though, as she smiled in return.

"You do look familiar to me," she said. "And my name sounds familiar. I just  
can't remember anything. What am I like? What kind of person am I?"

His smile widened. "Well, you're beautiful, obviously."

She blushed.

"But you're also smart - brilliant, in fact. You're determined and honest,  
loyal, idealistic. You're a good person, Angela Trelawney."

She looked down at her place setting, composing herself before she continued.  
"How long have we been married?"

"A year. Here, let me show you our wedding picture. Maybe that'll trigger some  
memories."

He pulled the photo out and handed it over, watching her face as she studied the  
image. She looked up.

"Do - do you mind if I keep this?"

He shook his head.

"Do we have children?"

"Not yet. We were, ah, going to start working on that this year."

"Oh."

To her great relief, the waiter arrived to take their orders. Her gaze returned  
to the whitecaps far below. She knew she had fallen into a ravine in the woods,  
because the nurses had told her that. She knew that she had apparently been

hiking alone, because the police had told her that. And she knew what Sean had

told her.

Funny. It seemed strange to think of him as "Sean," and not "Trelawney." But  
why? It was some comfort, at least, to find something familiar.

"Would you like to dance?"

She looked up to find him standing beside her, a hand held out. In her  
confusion, she acceded, although she didn't really want to. She wasn't sure she  
knew how to dance.

Trelawney led her to the small area in the center of the room where two or three

couples were dancing cheek to cheek. Shirley Bassey's smoky voice sang as  
Trelawney pulled her into his arms. His chin rested against her hair, and as  
they danced, he let his lips drift down to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

"I was frantic when I heard about your accident. The thought of losing you  
forever . . " he hugged her tighter. "I just couldn't bear it, Angela." He

sighed. "You're everything to me."

She relaxed into his arms. She felt so safe there. She closed her eyes and  
savored the sensation. Safety. Rest. It seemed like eons since she had last

experienced them. Suddenly, the face of a young blond man flashed into her

mind. It was just a second, and then it was gone. Her body tensed again.

"What's the matter?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

The song ended and they returned to their table. She raised her eyes to his.

"Sean, was I attacked?"

His hand, reaching for his wineglass, froze. He blinked. "No. Not as far as I  
know. Why? Do you remember something?"

"No." She hesitated. "It's just that when we were dancing, I felt so safe . .

Trelawney smiled and squeezed her hand.

"And then I got this memory, or an image, or something . . . of this guy. And  
suddenly, I felt afraid."

Trelawney's brow furrowed. "What did he look like?"

Angela smiled and shook her head. "That's what's funny. He looked like a  
surfer."

He grinned. "Probably one of the hikers who rescued you. You had a pretty good

fall, you know. All the images and emotions are just getting jumbled up."

She visibly relaxed. "You're probably right. Sean," she said, "thank you."

"For what?"

"For taking care of me."

"I love you, Angela. I'll always watch over you."


	3. Chapter 3

Jacob was on his way to the hospital when the news broke over his Walkman. The

injured hiker had been identified and returned to her family. When the new

jockey gave her name as "Angela Trelawney," he went one way and his board went  
the other.

"Nice move, dude!" a couple of passing teen queens hooted.

He picked himself up and raced back to his room at the inn. Setting up his  
notepad, he quickly hacked into the hospital computers.

"Angela Trelawney. Spouse: Sean Trelawney. Address: 181 Ventura Street,  
Seattle."

'Why would they pull something like this when they could just have her arrested  
again?' Jacob wondered.

He dialed the number listed in her hospital records, fully expecting to be  
politely informed that the number was either disconnected or wrong. What he got  
was Trelawney's voice on an answering machine.

Jacob held the receiver at arm's length and stared at it, slack-jawed.

"What the hell?" he whispered.

Angela had to admit, it was a pretty house. The prairie-style home spread out

across the hilly landscape, half a mile off the road. Discreetly placed lights

had illumined the drive and house upon their approach, accenting the perfect  
geometric angles of the architecture in relation to the undulating curves of the

Washington countryside.

Trelawney put the Range Rover in park and hopped out to open the door for his  
wife. He held her hand as they climbed the stone steps to the entrance, where

he whooshed a laughing Angela off her feet and over the threshold.

"What are you doing?!"

"Making a memory," he said with a smile. He carried her into the living room  
and set her down. "You don't remember the first time I did this, so I thought  
I'd refresh your recollection."

His arms were still around her and she found herself staring into his hazel  
eyes. In the sudden silence, he leaned in for a kiss. When she returned it, he  
clasped her tighter, and her arms wrapped around him.

She pulled away.

"I - I'm sorry. I'm not ready yet."

He cleared his throat. "I understand."

"Um. I'm going to take a bath."

He turned away. "Okay."

"Um?"

He looked over his shoulder.

"Where's the bathroom?"

"Oh. It's off our room. Top of the stairs, bathroom's on the left, next to the  
fireplace."

"Thanks."

He watched her retreat up the staircase. He figured one hundred push-ups ought  
to take care of it.

Angela emerged from the bathroom wearing a berry-colored silk chemise. As it so

happened, Trelawney had made sure that all of her sleepwear came from Victoria's

Secret. There were no flannel pyjamas to be found in the house.

He was already between the sheets and had a fire going in the fireplace. She

padded over to the opposite side of the queen-sized bed and slipped under the  
covers. She closed her eyes, and a small sigh escaped her.

"Tired?" he asked.

"No. It's just good to be home."

He lay down on his side, facing her, one arm under his head.

"I feel like I haven't been home in ages, you know?" she continued.

"Mm-hmm." He reached out and her eyes flew open. "No, I just want to hold  
you," he assured her.

He inched forward and pulled her gently into his arms. Within five minutes, she  
was asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

She was lying on her back in the sand, staring up into a gray sky. She could  
hear the roll of the surf nearby, and the seagulls calling to each other. The

blond guy sat beside her. He was smiling down at her, and she didn't feel the

least bit afraid of him. Instead, she felt like she was home. She longed to  
reach up and touch his face, but something held her still. She wanted to tell

him to pull her into his arms, but when she spoke, no sound came out.

She began crying and was awakened by her loneliness, to find herself cradled in

her husband's arms.

He seemed like a good man. He seemed to love her. She was grateful for that.  
But as she studied his face as he slept - trying to tell herself that this was

her husband, the man she loved - the face of the blond man kept insinuating

itself in her memory.

She rested her head on her husband's chest. Who was the blond? What role did  
he play in her life?

She considered getting up and searching the house for some clue to his identity,

but fell asleep again before moving a centimeter.

******************************

"Angela?"

Jacob looked around the dimly lit motel room, an exercise which took him a total  
of two seconds. He remembered where he was, and sat up in bed. Reaching down,

he pulled the Seattle street map onto the bed and flicked on the lamp. With his

finger, he traced the route from the motel room to Ventura Street. He wondered  
if he could just waltz in and get her. Somehow, he doubted it. Trelawney was  
likely to have an electrified fence, pitbulls, and all manner of security  
devices around his house.

Even assuming he could get in, there was no guarantee Angela would come with  
him, unless she remembered. He had to make her remember. If only there was  
some way to get an e-mail to her. The Sorcerer's voice would surely trigger her  
memory, enough to get her to meet him somewhere.

But all this speculation was moot, because there was no way to get an e-mail to

her without Trelawney intercepting it. Face to face was his only hope.

He hopped into the shower, hoping to make himself presentable. He wondered if  
she believed Trelawney, believed she was his wife. If so, she might be lost  
forever. Jacob rested his forehead against the cool white tile, letting the hot

water trickle over his skin. He had never really stopped to think how important  
Angela was to him, but she was. She was his touchstone. What would become of

him without her in his life?

That was why he'd sent her that first e-mail, the one that turned her life

upside down. He'd wanted an ally, yes, but more than that, he'd wanted a

friend.

He'd been dreaming, before he awoke; dreaming of Angela. They were lying on the  
bed together, on their sides, facing each other and talking over the day's

events like they'd gotten into the habit of doing. She was saying something,

and laughing, when she'd started to fade away. He reached out and managed to  
caress her lips before she disappeared altogether.

As he stood in the shower, he imagined her arms wrapping around him, her head  
resting against his back. With a groan, he wiped the water off his face and  
shut the tap off. Daydreaming wasn't going to bring her back. It was time to  
get to work.

******************************

"You see? I told you."

Angela looked up from her cereal to see her husband holding aloft a small gold  
wedding band.

"Right where you left it." He walked towards her from he kitchen sink, and  
pulled her hand to him.

"Let me do the honors," he said. "Again." He slipped the ring onto her finger

and sat down next to her, one arm across her shoulders.

"Do you feel up to getting out today?" he asked.

She sipped her grapefruit juice before answering. "What did you have in mind?"

"I thought we could ride up to the Farmer's Market, do a little shopping, and  
have lunch together."

"Don't you have to go to work?"

"No," he said too quickly. "Mr. Smith has given us some time off until you get  
back on your feet."

"Us? You mean, we work together?"

Trelawney took a sip of his coffee, averting his eyes in the process. He set it  
down gently on the mission table before answering. "Yes. We work for Copper

Canyon Technologies. You're a computer programmer."

"Copper Canyon . . . " Angela stared unseeing through the floor-to-ceiling

window that comprised one entire wall of the kitchen. The rolling hills were

lush with greenery, from the rich kelly of the weedless lawn to the green-black  
of the ancient firs that skirted the yard. None of it registered with Angela,  
who saw only a desert landscape.

"I work with computers . . . at Copper Canyon." It was part statement, part  
question.

Her husband smiled nervously.

"Yes. You're one of the top employees."

She faced him again. "And you're a programmer too?"

"No, I'm just in administration. They leave all the brain work to geniuses like

you," he said, chucking her under the chin with a wink.

When she didn't reply, but continued to stare blankly into space, he added, "So,

do you want to come into town with me? I'm planning a special dinner for us

tonight, and I thought you could help me pick out the ingredients." He paused.

"And, well, I just want to spend some time with you, Angela. I know it makes

you uncomfortable to be alone with me right now, and I'm trying really hard not

to pressure you."

He looked down at her hand cradled in his. He pressed it to his lips before

staring soulfully into her eyes. "But I miss you, Angela. I miss you so much."

She melted at the sight of the tears welling up in his eyes, and pulled him into  
her embrace.

"I'm sorry." She buried her face in his shoulder. "I know this is difficult  
for you, and I know you're being patient, and I love you for it."

Trelawney smiled.

"Of course I'll go with you. Just give me an hour to shower and get dressed,  
okay?"

He nodded, bravely holding back his tears. She gave him a quick kiss, then headed upstairs. Trelawney pulled her bowl of cereal over and finished it.


	5. Chapter 5

They were wandering through Farmer's Market when Angela saw him - the blond  
guy. He was standing across the street, in the doorway of a coffee house,  
looking straight at her. Sean was several booths up, mulling over a collection  
of mangoes and star fruit. She glanced his way once, then took out across the  
street.

The blond guy turned out of the doorway and around the corner, heading up Pike  
Street towards Century Square. She jogged across the road and followed him. He

looked over his shoulder, then picked up the pace. She pursued, until they were  
both running full out. He zipped around a corner and she dogged him. She took  
the 90-degree turn into an alley way, and found herself face-to-face with the  
man who had been haunting her. Only now did she realize the danger she had  
placed herself in.

She considered backing up, running back to Sean, but the need to know, to solve  
this mystery, overwhelmed any other considerations. Before she could demand  
answers, he said softly, "Hello, Angel."

Something melted inside her at the sound of his voice. She wasn't afraid, not  
now. She remembered her dream of last night, the closeness she had felt with  
him, the warmth.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

"I'm Jacob, remember? Sorcerer."

"Sorcerer? What does that mean? How do I know you?" She paused, scanning his  
face. Her voice lowered. "Are we lovers?"

Jacob's blush began at his collar and worked its way up to the roots of his  
hair. He swallowed hard, and looked away for a second before answering, "No.

No, we're not lovers." He laughed. "Not that you don't keep trying, though."

In spite of herself, Angela smiled. "Then who are you?"

"I'm your friend. You're in danger. Don't you remember? Think back to what

you were doing in California."

"I was hiking. I needed some time off from work."

"Work? Is that what he told you?" he demanded.

"What who told me?" she asked suspiciously.

"Trelawney," he spat.

She edged away. "I lost my memory. My husband has had to fill in a few details  
for me . . ."

"Husband!" Jacob knew that was the story Trelawney had fed the authorities, but  
he somehow never completely believed that Angela would fall for it, not the way

she felt about Trelawney. Unbidden, an image of Angela in the smarmy

Trelawney's embrace imprinted itself in his mind, and a jolt of what he would

later refuse to admit was jealousy surged through him. It was apparent to  
Angela, though.

Jacob grabbed her arms. "You haven't slept with him, have you?"

She struggled to escape, finally jerking herself free. "Leave me alone! Stay  
away from me, whoever you are."

She turned and ran. He went after her.

"Angel, wait!"

Passersby stared, and a couple of beefy guys blocked his path.

"Are you bothering that lady?" Behemoth Number One said to him.

"No, we were just having a little lover's quarrel." Jacob tried to move past  
him, but Behemoth Number Two pulled him back.

"Well, it looks like you both need a time-out. Why don't you leave the little  
lady alone." It was an order, not a question, and the question would have been

moot anyway. Angela had disappeared back into the depths of the market.

'Reunited with her loving husband, no doubt,' Jacob thought grimly.

-\

"Where'd you go?"

Sean put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She was still  
slightly out of breath, her face a little flushed from the sprint back. He  
frowned.

"What happened?"

Without conscious thought, she lied. "Oh, I went across the road to see what  
they had at the coffee shop. I had a near miss with a cyclist on the way back."

She smiled convincingly.

He grinned. "Your accident karma is piling up this week. You'd better stay  
close to me from now on." He gave her a quick, unexpected, open-mouthed kiss,  
then led her onward towards the fish market.

Angela's head was reeling from her physical response to his casual kiss, as well  
as the emotional storm of the confrontation with Jacob. She pushed her thoughts

of the young blond man - whoever he was - away, wrapped her arm around her

husband's waist, and concentrated on the array of seafood before them. As they

strolled through the market, Sean's hand continually rubbed her shoulder, her  
neck, her back, and once or twice settled for a brief caress on her hips. With  
each touch, she found her thoughts of Jacob fading, and longed to be at home

where she was safe. With her husband.

But that word brought to mind Jacob's jealous accusation, and a niggle of doubt

prodded her consciousness. Why would Sean say he was her husband if he wasn't?

Well, okay, there was a rational answer to that one. But what about the wedding  
photo? You couldn't argue that away. She reached down to her purse and longed  
to pull her wallet out, to examine the photo, to reassure herself that reality

was what she thought it to be. She couldn't do that though, not in front of

Sean.

"Tell me about our wedding," she asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Our wedding. What was it like?"

"Hmm," he looked up to the timbered rooftop for inspiration. "Well, you were  
radiant, of course. I was devilishly handsome."

They both grinned.

"My best man - do you remember Jimmy?" She shook her head. "Well, at the  
reception, Jimmy got absolutely trashed, said something obnoxious to the

minister, and then mooned him." Angela shrieked with laughter, and he continued

with his reminiscences. "Let's see. The prime rib was overdone, and I had to  
physically restrain you from punching out the caterer."

"No way!" She laughed.

"Absolutely! My hand to God, Angela. Of course, you were a little tipsy  
yourself by then."

She smiled and shook her head. "What song did we dance to?"

"All of Me."

"Hmmm." She frowned. "Nope, means nothing to me."

"Oh, come on, you remember." He took her in his arms and danced her around in

the aisle. "'All of me! Why not take all of me? Can't you see, I'm just no  
good without you.'"

His voice was awful, and they both cracked up at the sight of other shoppers staring in wonder at the pair of weirdos fox-trotting in the squid section. She punched his arm playfully.

"Stop it! Come on, just buy the stupid fish and let's go home."

He halted, looked at her and smiled.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. I just like the way you said that." He held her gaze moment. "You're right. It's time for us to go home, Mrs. Trelawney."


	6. Chapter 6

"What progress are you making, Mr. Trelawney?"

Trelawney shut the door of the study. He could hear Angela moving about in the

kitchen, putting the groceries away, but he wanted to make sure she didn't

overhear any of this conversation.

"She's being drawn in, Mr. White. I expect she'll be ready to join the Guard  
within two weeks."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Silence, then, "Two weeks is a

long time, Mr. Trelawney. Even for a honeymoon. Is that what this is?"

Trelawney wheeled around in his desk chair, straightening the framed wedding  
photograph on the right-hand corner of the oaken mission table, then neatly

ordering his pen, his paper and his laptop computer. "No, sir," he said evenly.

"But you must understand, this is a delicate operation. The Guard, as you know,  
is accustomed to scorched earth tactics, but this is a heart-and-mind war. We

need to win her over to our side, and convince her that our mission is hers.

With Angela Bennett as our ally, we are far stronger."

"Stronger than if she were dead?" his boss asked.

Trelawney's heart thudded in his chest.

"Yes," he answered.

White paused. "Good enough, Mr. Trelawney. Two weeks. If she hasn't come  
aboard by then, you kill her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I agree completely."

He ended the connection, then sat there, staring into space. It was a full 60

seconds before he was able to breathe again. His eyes focused on their wedding  
picture, and he smiled. That was a good story he'd come up with about "Jimmy,"  
the drunken best man. It was exactly what she needed to hear, exactly what

she'd expect her husband to remember, rather than details about the colors of

the dresses, and what type of flowers she'd carried. He picked up the photo and  
stared at it, smiling.

Angela opened the door and peeked in.

"Can I come in?"

His smile broadened, and she entered, crossing to where he sat.

"What are you looking at?" Then she saw it.

"Just reminiscing some more," he said. He pulled her down onto his lap and  
caressed a strand of hair that fell across her cheek. His hand trailed down her

arm, coming to rest on her thigh. He could see the pulse jump in her neck, the

sudden flush on her skin. "Groceries all put away?" he murmured.

"Mm-hmm." She settled against him, one arm around his shoulders. "Who was that  
on the phone?"

"Our boss. He's getting anxious to have you back already, but don't worry. I

told him you need at least two weeks."

She sighed. "Well, that's good, since I don't remember what I do anyway." She  
fingered the laptop computer on his desk, flipping it open. "You say I'm a  
programmer?"

"Yes." He closed the laptop. "But not now, you're not."

He caressed her face, and their mouths met. Angela's toes curled inside her

running shoes, every nerve ending in her body alive to his touch. Jacob never  
entered her mind.

-\

Jacob had already been and gone.

He took the opportunity while "the Trelawneys" were shopping to reconnoiter

their place in the Seattle suburbs. The rich Seattle suburbs. It was the type

of community where Microsoft upper management racewalked in the evening with

their significant others before retiring to the hot tub for a glass of wine and

some moderately illegal activity.

What Jacob Resh accomplished in that community, however, was highly illegal  
activity. He disarmed the Trelawney alarm system and took the opportunity,  
while the happy couple was out, to hook up a wiretap to the phone and modem  
lines. He also programmed into the alarm system an alternate password, to allow  
himself free reign of the household without being burdened by all that  
bothersome, felonious hardware.

One thing he wasn't blessed with, however, was inconspicuousness. He would have  
loved to have been staked out down the block in his car, but rich folks seem to

be suspicious of bleached-blond teenage boys in Rent-a-Wrecks, especially when

said boys are parked in front of the rich folks' homes for hours on end. As  
such, he reluctantly cruised back to the motel room, and set up shop farther

than he would've liked. As he waited, and listened, and waited, he worried

about Angela. Brooded about her. And his stomach churned when he thought of  
her with Trelawney.

Had he pushed her into Trelawney's arms this afternoon? He was stupid, stupid,

stupid for reacting so strongly. He should have known better. She had amnesia,  
she thought she was alone in the world. Of course she was going to cling to the  
one person who seemed to know her, who seemed to offer her safety.

And what had he, Jacob, offered her? A jealous tantrum.

No, not jealous, he corrected. Concerned. That's it, concerned. He cared  
about Angela. He just wanted to protect her, that's all. 'I mean,' he thought,  
'it's not like we're in love or anything.'

No, of course not. Sure, he flirted with her, but it was just a game. Right?

But if she had ever said yes - what then?

Jacob sighed and slumped in the worn, faded easy chair. 'In a heartbeat,' he

thought. 'One single heartbeat.'

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. Not his phone,  
Trelawney's. Jacob switched on the recorder and slipped the headphones onto his

ears. Fire and ice battled inside him as he listened, the ice of fear at what

Mr. White had planned for Angela, either way. The fire came from what he knew  
Trelawney's plans were. He had made those intentions quite clear.

The conversation ended, and Jacob switched off the recorder. That was it. That

was how he got Angela back. Just play the tape for her. He'd break in tonight,  
lure her away from Trelawney, and let her listen for herself. And as a backup,

he'd bring a tape of 'the Sorcerer.' That suave English accent would win her over, surely.

If only he could sound like that in real life.


End file.
